


Gaius Louis Caesar

by SilverBells



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Politics, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Content, Slavery, will become more explicit and higher rated later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBells/pseuds/SilverBells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaius Louis, a young general of the Roman army, is send to Alexandria, Egypt on a peaceful mission to negotiate an allegiance with the Pharaoh. Liam, his second in command, has warned him against the temptations of Egypt, but nothing could prepare him for the hebrew slave boy he meets there. </p><p>Featuring prince Zayn and practically-a-god!Niall for your entertainment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Upon the longboat

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to upfront apologize for certain stereotypes and for the many atrocious historical inaccuracies that appear in this story. The historian in me is screaming, but I have to tell the story and to do that I have to bend a few things in order to make them fit. 
> 
> As you might have deducted from the title, I've taken a lot of things from the life of Julius Caesar, on whom I've based a lot of Louis' roman life. Caesar was born around 100 BC. I've based the Egyptians and their ways on a time much earlier (about a thousand years or so, no big deal) when the Hebrew people were slaves and pharaohs ruled almighty as gods and all that. Take it with a grain of salt, though I try to be historically accurate for my own pain and amusement.

Louis had always loved traveling. To him, standing here on the deck of the Pax, one of his quinqueremes warships, meant the kind of freedom and excitement that the city of Rome simply could not offer him. Not anymore. 

He widened his stance, adjusting to the rise and fall of the ship beneath him, and squinted at the horizon, where the shores of a foreign land were only barely visible. A smile creeped onto his face, the skin around his eyes crinkling with glee. Naturally, he missed his family; his mother, his sisters, even his uncle, but the sting of homesickness couldn’t overcome the thrill of seeing the first of the great land of Egypt! The country of animal gods and beautiful, dark-skinned people. The land of papyrus and sand; deserts full of sand as far as the eye could see. Excitement coursed through him at only the thought of the towering structures of Alexandria, the culture, studied, but not yet experienced, all the new people he would meet…! 

“Dreaming again, my friend?” a voice interrupted his thoughts. Louis opened his eyes and turned around. 

“What is there to do but dreaming, dearest Liam?” he asked his broad shouldered second in command, with a slap on his shoulder. Liam’s armour jingled brightly, in ever so great condition. Louis shook his head fondly and briskly walked past him.“I can hardly sit down with our rowers and help them with their labour, now can I?” 

“It would be most unbecoming of a general,” Liam agreed, as he fell into step with his commander. His serious demeanor faltered slightly, as they made their way to the back of the ship, their identical red capes billowing behind them, “I just hope you don’t get too caught up in your dreams to forget the purpose of our journey,” he smiled cheekily, “Dreaming does not goo well with diplomacy.” 

Louis sighed, both annoyed and grateful for Liam’s ever so straight head and his reminder of what was at stake here. The alliance with the Pharaoh, the very reason he had been send to the land before him.  ‘Anything to further the pax romana, the roman peace,’ the emperor had told him. It would greatly increase his popularity, would probably secure Louis a place on the senate, if not more. Not to mention the increase in prosperity it would mean for their people. Still, courtesy and state-affairs were much less exciting thoughts than his dreams of the great pyramids. 

“I haven’t forgotten our goal, Liam,” Louis replied curtly, a sudden tension in his shoulders, “I will see to it that it’s done. The emperor sent _me_ for a reason. There is no version of this where I won’t succeed. I’d sooner lay down my rank than return to Rome a failure.”

“I believe you,” said Liam, solemnly, “I have the uttermost faith in you, Louis.”  
His eyes crinkeled tellingly and Louis raised an eyebrow at him. “Just do me one favour,” Liam said, “And don’t sleep with the monarch this time.”

Louis barked out a laugh, before they entered into the belly of the longship. 

“It worked last time, didn’t it?”

=====================================================================  
The thing is, it _had_ worked, Louis thought that evening, gazing at the Bythian vase that he had pulled from his belongings. He sighed and put it on his desk. It had worked really well. 

He’d only been a soldier for a little over two years when he’d made it to being second in command of the late Legatus Marcus and had been send with him on a mission to Bythinia. It had been a mission very similar to the one he was on now; to convince the Bythian king of an alliance with the Roman empire, which had been in the precarious - though not uncommon situation of being in two wars at the same time. It had been a more pressing matter than their possible alliance with the egyptian pharaoh, but was similar none the less. 

They had been hailed and praised upon arrival and everything seemed to be going smoothly, up until the actual negotiations. The king had outright refused all of their offers, had practically laughed in their face. There was nothing the empire could offer him. Nothing to change his mind. Marcus had been beyond himself, with anger and worry for the empire. Well - perhaps simply worry for himself and his carreer. He had hoped for a triumphant return to Rome, not one where he would have to hang his head in shame. 

He had returned to the king once more, once too many. Bored of his begging, the king had ordered the man on his knees and had personally separated his head from his body. The image plagued Louis to this very day.

Shocked, but afraid of the lives of his fellow soldiers, Louis - now in command - had stepped forward. He had known full well that he might have been next to find his shoulders empty of a head, but he had to try. He’d rather loose his head than watch his friends and colleagues be slaughtered. He had shrugged off Liams hand and pleaded for the king’s mercy. 

The king had granted them his mercy and allowed for them to stay in Bythinia for however long it would take them to pack up and leave. Louis had thanked him while standing over the corpse of his former commander. 

He had ordered the troups to pack up and with their military discipline expected it to be done before noon the next morning. Their return home would be shameful, but at least they would return at all. All hope for an alliance had seemed lost. 

As courtesy required, Louis had remained in the palace, while his troups packed up their camp. He hated being left behind, but he refused to give the king any more reason to waste roman blood. Keeping the peace with the Bythinians was the only thing left for Louis to do. 

At least, until the king had approached Louis with a question late that evening. 

“Have you heard of the Greek tradition of Pederasty?” he had asked. 

Louis - being of excellent upbrining - did, of course. 

“No,” he replied, innocently, “I’m afraid I have not.” 

The king had smiled, shadows, thrown by the bright candles of his palace, dancing over his face. It was late, Louis had been on his way to bed. 

“It is an exchange,” the king had replied, “between men, one young and one mature.” 

Louis had taken a deep breath and focused on the memory of his mother’s hopeful gaze and his uncle’s stern trust. He’d stepped closer towards the king and placed a hand on his broad chest. “And what sort of exchange would that be, then?”

A hand had sneaked around his middle, as moist lips whispered in his ear, “Let me show you. An exchange between your empire and mine, yes?”

“Yes,” Louis had breathed, before the king had pulled him away, back to his own quarters. 

Louis had not been at the campment the next day, but he’d been there the day after, with a limp and the promise of an alliance. 

Louis rose from his thoughts and the memory of the cheering roman citizens when the Pax hit a particularly rough wave and knocked the vase from it’s place on the desk. Louis watched, head on his hand, a cup of wine in the other, as it swayed and fell to pieces on the hard, wooden floor. He made no attempt to rescue it and stared at the pieces on the floor with a frown. He had no idea why he’d held on to the thing in the first place. It was ugly and completely out of fashion, but it had been a gift from the king. 

He had been hailed as a hero by both soldier and citizen after his ‘victory’ in Bizanthia. You’d think he was some sort of demi-god bazed on the romantisized story of his impossible persuation. He was attributed a tongue as silver as Seneca’s, rhetoric skills to rival Socrates, because he never spoke of what had happened between him and the king. 

The truth of the matter was that he had been pretty enough to catch the interest of a fickle king and clever enough to use it to his advantage. Better than a common whore, but not by much. 

Another swallow fromt he cup of wine doused the unease in his stomach. Once empty, he put it down with a satisfying ‘twack!’. It did him no good to dwell on times long past, as Liam would undoubtedly remind him.

He left the shattered remains of the vase on the floor as he left to prepare for the night. It did not matter, just like his affair with the king. 

=====================================================================

The following day was like a flashback, when they are received with music and festivities as soon as they enter the harbour of Alexandria. Most of the soldiers delighted in it, excited by the sight of the foreign city. Louis echoed their sentiment in his own way, as the city _was_ very beautiful, but like the more seasoned soldiers - the ones that were with him in Byzanthia - he knew that the extravagance meant nothing. He let his soldiers enjoy themselves, though, left their trust in him - their legendary leader - intact for the moment. 

Not that he expected to fail, but he had learned his lesson when it came to negotiations and he exchanged a grim look with Liam, who stood on his right hand side as per usual. They knew that the bigger the feast, the bigger the ego of the man that organisds it. 

They expected the worst. 

“Gaius Louis!” The Pharaoh acknowledged him with a curtesy nod. He remained seated on his throne when Louis sunk to his knees and only rose when the entirety of Louis’ party has followed in his wake. 

“Great Pharaoh,” Louis replied, as kindly as he possibly could “We are honoured by your kindness and humbled to reside in your presence.” 

A smile spread over the Pharaoh’s handsome face, bearded and flanked on both sides by the fabric of his nemes, as though he agreed fullheartedly with Louis’ sentiment. Louis gritted his teeth and exposed them in a charming answer of a grin. 

“We welcome you to Alexandria, Gaius Louis,” the Pharaoh spoke, gesturing to the room at large with a grand movement of his bejeweled arm. The amount of jewelry on his person almost made up for the fact that he was wearing little more than the common egyptian skirt - lioncloth or however they wished to refer to it, his nemes - his crown, to certain extent - and the large golden neclace they referred to as a gorgerin. 

Louis had studied the Egyptian culture intensively. 

Despite all his knowledge, which told him the Pharaoh’s outfit was perfectly appropriate, the tan, exposed torso in front of him was rather intimidating - not to mention distracting. 

Louis knew he wasn’t the tallest man in the army, but it was quite literally right in his face and it was frankly a little ridiculous. 

“We thank you for having us,” he replied, stepping away from the Pharaoh to lay a hand on Liam’s shoulder, forgiving him for the amused expression on his face. “This is Liam, my second in command, bearing the gifts from our emperor to the child of the morning and evening star.”

The Pharaoh motioned for his servants to accept the gifts from Liam and a few other of their soldiers in almost blatant dismissal of their gifts. 

“There is much for us to discuss,” said Louis, respectfully, but impatient to cut short the festivities that hid the Pharaoh’s true intentions. 

“It can wait,” said the Pharaoh, “Let us feast together, you must be weary after so long a journey and I wish not to converse with you while you are tired. We will speak when you are rested, Gaius Louis.” 

Louis sighed, and followed as the Pharaoh led them through his palace, to which they had been escorted almost immediately after arrival. He had seen little to nothing of the city or its people and now he would be stuck here for the forseeable future. He almost wished for a quick dismissal of their propositions, but his pride would not let him, of course. He would see this through and form that allegiance if it killed him. 

At least he would be able to see the palace, which was impressive and beautiful all on its own. They walked through beautiful pillared archways - senets - and there were statues and beautiful exotic plants everywhere. The palace was also busy with life - there were people everywhere, most of them servants and slaves, hurrying through the corridors doing all sorts of things. It was both amusing and intriguing to Louis, who was used to a whole different set of conventions when it came to daily life and servants. 

A good few of them were bustling around the richly decorated chamber full of tables of food that the Pharaoh lead them to. Most of the nobles that had been present in the throne room hadfollowed them and took their places on the couches and chairs, leaving space in the middle of the room, where only one person was already seated. He rose when they approach and by Jupiter, he was even more handsome than the Pharaoh. He was a lot younger, though, but dressed quite similarly. Thankfully he lacked the vast amounts of jewelry and the large headpiece, and wore the familiar white cloth with only a few bands around his arms and one broad necklace on his chest. 

He didn’t need the jewelry, Louis concluded immediately, as he took in the young man’s beauty. Dark piercing eyes and tan skin, fill pouty lips that formed a kind, almost shy smile as he was introduced. 

“My son, Zayn.” The Pharaoh laid an arm on the shoulders of his son and beamed proudly, as Zayn bowed his head in greeting. 

“Pleased to meet you, welcome to Alexandria,” said Zayn, in perfect, though accented latin. 

“It is a pleasure to be here,” said Louis, genuinely this time as the other man seemed a lot less arrogant and full of himself than his father. He hoped Zayn would be present at the negotiations. 

They were requested to take their seats, very close to the Pharaoh, which was considered a great honor and were served Egypt’s most expensive and tasteful delicacies. 

Louis took care to not stray towards politics in conversation - it was a common subject, but the Pharaoh had made it clear he did not wish to speak of it for now. Louis was still annoyed, but found it in himself to be grateful. He found himself tired after the long journey and he enjoyed the meal, as well as the company of Zayn, who proved himself quiet, but incredibly witty and humorous in conversation.

He was thankful for Liam, who had taken it upon himself to make conversation with the Pharaoh, which left Louis able to get to know Zayn - who could be a very powerful ally during negotiations, but was also a very interesting person - and to observe his surroundings. 

He quickly worked out, with only minimal help from Zayn, the difference between the men and women who were servants and the ones that were slaves. It was mostly in the way they dress - the slaves in similar dark outfits with bands around their wrists to signal their status - but it was also their apperance. Most of the slaves were paler of skin than the Egyptian servants and nobles and had particularly wavy hair, different from the black and shaved heads of the Egyptians. 

Most of them were Jewish, he learned from Zayn, who projected large amounts of disapproval at this notion and was kind to the servant boy that brought him his food, as opposed to his father, who either completely ignored or snapped at the servant girl that brought him his. 

The evening progressed slowly, but Louis had not been not dissatisfied - being on friendly grounds with the other party was always beneficial - until the the high priest proposed that Zayn should show them around the city the following day and the Pharaoh agreed just a little too quickly.

Louis was dying to see the city, of course, but he did not fail to see the implications of the Pharaoh’s constant dismissal of his wish for conversation. Serious conversation - negotiation. 

He let it slide, as the Egyptians were perhaps not quite as strict as the Romans, who liked to get business done sooner rather than later. They liked to take their time with things, as showcased by the feast that lasted for hours, and perhaps this was similar. 

He allowed himself to be shown to the quarters their party had been assigned, as honoured guests and was pleased to have a room to himself. On the ship he had shared his quarters with Liam, which he hadn’t minded, but he enjoyed the privacy of his own space, after the day’s events. 

He expected himself to worry about the upcoming days - or weeks, the gods forbid - but instead fell asleep quickly, covered in the silky Egyptian sheets. He dreamed of shattered Egyptian vases and broad tan torsos, and tossed and turned in his bed, subcounsciously expecting it to rock like the ship. He slept fitfully, but deeply, and was disoriented by the firm knocking on his door that woke him the following morning. 

As soon as he remembered his location and his poise, he called for whomever it was to enter. 

It was Zayn’s servant - his personal slave, as the prince had explained with a sour face - dressed in the same dark brown garb he had been wearing yesterday. His bracelets gleamed in the morning light and Louis frowned at them. The boy smiled at him in return, though a little uncertainly. 

“I apologise,” he said, in a low, languid voice, “Z- my master sent me to wake you and assist you with your morning routine, so you’ll be ready for the tour today.”

“Ah,” said Louis, dumbly, “I mean - how generous of him, thank you.”

The boy looked surprised, but pleased and took Louis’ words as an invitation to enter the room. He was carrying a steaming bowl and a cloth, as well as some other supplies. 

“We - my master, he thought you might prefer a quick wash, instead if visiting the baths,” he explained, after Louis gave the bowl a curious raised eyebrow, “He would prefer to get started before the sun is high. The heat is quite intense.” 

“Ah, yes, thank you,” Louis replied, finally stepping out of bed - completely naked and a little self-counscious, even though it wasn’t so different from being naked with other men in the bath houses in Rome - to take the bowl from the boy. 

“Er-” said the boy, “I am supposed to assist you.” He looked a little sheepish, as he held the bowl just out of Louis’ reach. There was humor twinkling behind surprisingly green eyes, though, and Louis guessed he understood Louis’ unease. He narrowed his own eyes. 

“Is that so?” 

The boy nodded - and honestly he needed to not refer to him as that, because he was almost a head taller than Louis. 

“What is your name?” 

“Hazaia,” was the reply given to Louis and he nodded, before he asked his next question. 

“What does it mean?”

The green eyes widened in surprise. “Excuse me?” He was unaware of a stray curl hanging over his forehead. 

“You are of the Jewish religion, aren’t you?” Louis answered impatiently, “Your name must have a meaning.”

“It means God sees,” Hazaia replied, a little startled, but obviously pleased at Louis inquiries. His expressions were like a series of paintings for Louis to observe, his emotions spilling over it quickly and obviously. 

“Thank you,” Louis said, watching with fascination as the satisfaction of having pleased him passed over Hazaia’s face, “You may assist me if you’d like, Has- Hazi-” 

“Hazaia,” the other boy provided helpfully, as he put down the bowl and picked up the cloth. 

“Would you mind if I called you Hazza?” Louis asked him, motioning for the cloth, as he’d really rather wash himself. 

A soft smile spread over Hazaia’s face. “I would not mind at all.” 

Their fingers touched when he was handed the damp cloth and Louis held on for a little too long before smiling in return, “Hazza it is, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to fix the grammar and spelling at a later point, unless someone feels the heroic desire to give this a beta read. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of it so far and if I should continue with this! It would be greatly appreciated.  
> (also if you'd like to leave a comment somewhere else than here, I've also got a [Tumblr](http://hazazaz.tumblr.com/%20))


	2. Alexandria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short and sorry it took so long!

“The river is one of our greatest treasures,” prince Zayn explained to Louis, as the two of them walked along the water near the palace, observing the body of water and the people working in and around it. People carrying water to the palace and other destinations, people washing clothes, even a few fisher people. A mix of servant and slaves, all looking quite content with their work. Louis was glad to see it; proof of Egypt’s prosperity. A woman, flanked by two playing children, smiled at him and he acknowledged her with a smiling nod in return. 

“It brings us life and gives us a life of plenty,” Zayn continued. His talk seemed rehearsed, Louis noticed, and his attention wavered constantly. More often than not to the boy behind them holding up a sunshade over their heads

Hazza seemed to know everyone, as he greeted and was greeted by everyone that passed them by. He never wavered behind them, but offered different lovely smiles to everyone. 

Louis smiled to himself, charmed by the happiness and kindness displayed by the slave boy. He knew happy slaves usually equallyed happy patrons, but it was more than simply the politics of it that had him enjoy Hazza’s joy. It was contagious. 

The tour continued, in much the same generic way that provided Louis with little to no knowledge he hadn’t already acquired himself. It was enjoyable to finally see the great city in person, but he felt slightly patronized. Not to mention directed. 

“Is there a market?” Louis asked, interrupting Zayn’s monologue on their worship of the river gods. 

“And they- I.. uh?” Zayn stuttered, “Sorry, wha?” 

Louis grinned, “I asked if you have a market in the city.” 

“Uh- yes, yes we do,” Zayn replied, obviously put out by Louis’ sudden interruption. Hazza fidgeted behind them, closer to Zayn, “But, erm, wouldn’t you rather see the temple?”

Louis sighed. 

“Listen, I understand that you’ve been ordered to walk me around and keep me busy without showing too much of the city and what’s really going on, but honestly?” Louis was going on a limb here, “I’d much rather see the city than listen to you repeating my scriptures back at me, no offense. I’ll take full responsibility, of course. I just think you’ll be a much better guide when you improvise.”

Zayn stared at him, dumbstruck. Hazza was dead quiet next to him, having inched closer to him during Louis’ monologue. 

Then, Zayn started laughing. “By Osiris, I had heard you were an unusual negotiator, but you live up to your name, unconventional convincer.”

“I have no idea what you speak of, prince,” Louis replied snootily, winking at Hazza, who was grinning, also. “Now, this market?”

There was a moment of thoughtfulness on Zayn’s face, before his smile broke through again. “Alright, the market.”

=====================================================================

“You must, you must!” Louis yelled, when Zayn held up a piece of exquisite dark red cloth in front of him, “I will not accept your attendance at the negotiations unless you wear it!”

Zayn laughed, almost shy. Louis bet he hadn’t been out and about in ages. He insisted on taking a few guards, but they were not obtrusive. Louis felt 14 all over again, running about Rome with his friends. 

“What do you think?” Zayn mumbled, as he turned to Hazaia, who smiled at him, but glanced at Louis hesitantly. 

“Speak your mind!” Louis urged him, flapping his hand in their general direction, “I’ve never believed in the traditional.”

Hazza laughed, then. “The cloth is beautiful,” he said, stroking the piece with something like reverence, “my mother would give half our possessions for something like this.”

“I will give you what is left, after,” Zayn promises generously and Louis’ eyebrows rose towards his hairline. He was used to people who treated their slaves well, but Zayn and Hazaia broke all conventions of the usual master-slave relationship. They were friendly with each other, very much so, and they did an increasingly poor job of concealing it from Louis. Not that Louis minded, he never liked it when people submitted to him. He understood the system - why it worked, why it was needed. It didn’t mean he particularly liked it. 

Louis clapped his hands, and they moved on to the other stands and shops. 

“Dominus!” a voice yelled, and Louis turned instinctively. It was a young girl, fifteen-sixteen, maybe and she looked hesitant, ut determined, “Beautiful weapons for a brave soldier!”   
Louis laughed, and approached her. She’s standing in the open door of a shop that indeed looks to have a collection of shiny weaponry. Precious stones and metals on the swords and daggers. Expensive leather and woods. It reeked of wax and polish in the shop. Not very functional, then, Louis concluded; weaponry mostly intended for showing off. Still, a shiny sword never hurt when one dealt with politics. The Pharaoh didn’t shy away from impressive jewelry after all. 

Zayn and Hazza had followed him in, Hazza’s eyes large and impressed, Zayn amused and a little interested. 

“See anything you think might suit me?” Louis asked, walking up behind Hazaia and peering around him. Hazza startled and turned to look at him. 

When their eyes met, there was a moment - just a small moment - where Louis completely forgot why he was there. There in Egypt, in Alexandria, there in this small weaponry shop. All that mattered was the shiver that ran over his back, the shimmer in Hazaia’s eyes, the soft smile on his plush lips. 

“The dagger,” he said. 

“What?” Louis replied dumbly. He shook his head and glanced towards the table of swords and daggers they were standing in front of.

“The dagger,” Hazza repeated, pointing at an unobtrusive looking dagger. Well - unobtrusive among all the other things in the store. It was seated in a beautiful silver-looking sheath, the handle decorated with simple metal flourishes and leather, matching the leather belt it came with.   
It was probably one of the most useful items in the store, Louis found when he pulled out the actual dagger to inspect it.. 

“It is simple-looking, but incredibly dangerous,” Hazaia explained softly, so softly only Louis could hear him. He glanced at Hazza sharply. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“I shall buy it, then,” Louis breathed. 

“It will suit you,” Hazza nodded, before he turned to return to Zayn’s side. 

Ever so loyal, Louis thought, as he took the dagger in his hands and reached for his purse. Loyal, and incredibly observant, though he might not seem so. 

Louis observed the slave-boy, as he pulled a stupid face at Zayn’s choice of sword and basically stumbled out of the reach of it when Zayn pointed it at him. He nearly knocked over a rack of arrows, and looked guilty for about 2 seconds before the salesgirl laughed at him, too. 

Who _was_ this boy? 

=====================================================================

“Please,” Louis pressed, sighing as he leaned on the table for support, “You must see the benefits of a coalition. An _equal_ agreement between our two mighty empires, there is much to gain for both parties. Hand in hand -” 

“Unbeatable, yes, you’ve said,” the Pharaoh interrupted him. He was seated on the same chair he had been for the entirety of the afternoon, while Louis had been pacing and sweating in the heat, “As I am by myself.” 

No you won’t be, Louis thought venomously, when the barbarians come knocking, but he clenched his jaw and refrained. 

“The roman empire will not defer to you, great Pharaoh,” Louis said, staring at the man in disbelief. He couldn’t possibly expect the Roman emperor to just submit to him. To worship him as the God the thought himself to be. The thought alone was ridiculous. 

“Then the Roman empire will not receive our hand in friendship,” the Pharaoh spoke, not visibly deterred, but Louis could practically taste his annoyance. 

“And neither will we receive the hand of the Romans, father,” said Zayn, standing from his seat on the side of the table, “Our people, too, would benefit from an alliance. You must see this, worshipped or not.”

Louis locked eyes with Liam in the corner. It appeared they had convinced Zayn, an important player in this game. Well - convinced might be a big word for it. Truth was that an alliance was a win-win situation for both parties involved. Zayn was a reasonable young man. It was just that his father wasn’t. 

“When you ascend, my son, you will decide upon matters such as these,” the Pharaoh said to his son, “But I think you will see that no worldly goods are worth the disrespect.”

“There is no disrespect intended, great Pharaoh,” Louis began, fully willing to fight for his cause. Liam might have forbidden him from sleeping with the Pharaoh (not that that option was a very likely solution or possibility, nor a very attractive one to Louis) but he was not above begging. He was the unconventional convincer after all. 

The Pharao waved his hand. “I tire of your pleas, you can pay me your respect when we resume these negotiations. For now, let us dine. There is no pressure.”

“As you wish,” Louis replied icily, with a small bow towards the Pharaoh when he left the room. 

Zayn sighed, and rose from his chair again, looking as weary as Louis felt. He gave Louis an apologetic glance and followed his father. Louis hoped he could talk some sense into the man. He’d been impossible since the beginning of negotiations three days ago. Twisting Louis’ words and blocking him at every turn. 

As soon as he was sure it was only him and LIam in the room, Louis cursed, loudly, and then sighed, rubbing at his temples. Liam’s hand around his waist came quickly and reassuringly. 

“He will see the truth,” Liam said, squeezing Louis against him, “Patience.” 

“My patience is running out,” Louis told him, “He’s impossible, Liam.”

“I know,” Liam answered, “But we have to see this through to the end, we have to at least try. And if he doesn’t concede - well, then we’ll have to wait until Zayn takes the throne.” 

Louis laughed, “Ever the optimist, my friend.” He squeezed Liam’s arm gratefully. 

“Why don’t you go to your quarters, get some rest, you’ve been up and about since early this morning without so much as a pauze for food. I’ll have some sent to your room, yeah?”

“Thank you, Liam.” Louis really couldn't have asked for a better second in command - for a better friend. 

He tiredly bid Liam goodbye and left the negotiation room, thinking that he might try to come at the Pharaoh from another angle next time, just in time to bump into someone. 

“My apologies!” shouted Hazaia, who had dropped a flask of water on the floor, immediately sinking to his knees to fix the mess of broken stone. 

“It’s quite alright, Hazza,” Louis said gently. His sandals would surivive the splash of water and none of the stone had hit him, “Where were you headed? The negotiations here are over.”

“I - uh,” Hazza mumbled, “are they? I wasn’t aware.” He quickly scraped the pieces together and then made a sort of awkward half-bow to Louis, “I’ll go and- do other things, then.”

Louis’ eyes narrowed, but he let Hazza go. The boy hurried through the corridor and disappeared around the corner. 

Louis looked down and noticed a few splotches of red in the puddle of water. 

“Dammit,” he breathed, looking back at the corner and then the other way - towards his sleeping quarters - and then back to the corner. “Dammit.”

He hurried to the left and turned the same corner Hazza had. It led to one of the main courtyards of the palace and on the other hand, Louis could see a couple of slender, tan ankles disappearing up a staircase. 

Why would the slave boy go in a tower while carrying a handful of stone shards? 

Louis hurried across the courtyard, which was surprisingly empty, given that it was almost time for dinner and the slaves and servants should be bustling all throughout the palace.   
Not this part of the palace, though, for some reason. 

Louis took the stairs two steps at a time, but did so quietly. The stairs led to the highest part of the broad tower where only a sheet of see through cloth covered the entrance to a large, lush room. 

It was decorated in pales, Louis found, as he pushed aside the curtain and looked extremely luxurious. Pillows and sets everywhere, golden vases and other expensive looking trinkets. Plants of all sorts, exotic and large, well cared for. There was a gigantic bed, again covered in cloths and curtains and pillows and other fine materials, to his right and what looked like a solid golden bathtub to his left. 

Hazza was seated in the center of it, on a couch, while a boy only a little older than him was seated on the floor devouring a - loaf of bread? 

“Are you some kind of royal prisoner?” he asked, too dumbfounded to really care about the fact that he hadn't meant for them to know he was there. 

Hazza and the boy startled and glanced up at him and Louis was stricken by the paleness of the boy on the floor. 

He was pale, from his hair to his eyes to his skin. Blonde, like some of the Celtic and Germanic people in the north were and blue eyed - but not like Louis’, Louis’ were dark in comparison. It was most unusual, especially in Egypt, where everybody was almost exclusively dark skinned and brown eyed. 

“Louis!” Hazza cried, eyes wide in surprise, “You can’t be here! I can’t even be here!” 

“Relax, Haz,” said the boy, “You said he was nice, yeah? Let him stay, I want to eat my bread in peace.”

He took another bite, before he lifted his head again, “Oh and no, ‘m not a prisoner. I’m a God.” 

Both Louis and Hazaia stared at him, Louis in confusion and Hazaia in amusement. 

“The name’s Nile. Yes, like the river. Now sit down,” he continued, “You don’t happen to have any food on you, do you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooop, the band's all together now! YAY!
> 
> Again I'd like to apologise for any inaccuracies (I don't actually know what life in ancient egypt is like and I don't know what alexandria looked like back then) and for the grammar mistakes that will undoubtedly be in here somewhere.


End file.
